Passing Good
by Metonomia
Summary: When a strange challenge leads Peter and Edmund on a journey through the Western Wild, the brothers must learn to overcome new threats both internal and external if they are to bring each other back home. A Narnia fusion with Malory's tale of Balin and Balan.


"Ha!" King Edmund cried out in triumph as he lunged forward, jamming his opponent's shield-arm aside with his own and, as the taller man stumbled backward, bringing the point of his sword to bear at the other's throat.

"Yield!" Peter raised a gloved hand and stepped away from his brother's blade, turning swiftly to his fallen shield.

"Scratched?" Edmund asked, pushing up the visor of his helm.

"No, thank the Lion." The High King smiled sheepishly, brushing the mud off his lion rampant.

"I know it's silly, but at least in practice I couldn't bear for it to be ruined."

Edmund shrugged, accepting water from a page and passing it to his brother. As Peter drank deep and splashed the rest over his head, Edmund said, "No, I understand. It's part of your knighthood and your kingship and your oaths to Aslan. Perhaps, though, dear brother -" Peter raised his eyebrows at the familiar tone of sarcasm - "you might consider using a different shield when I'm going to beat you."

Peter laughed and shoved his helmet back on. "That sounds like a challenge!"

"Tomorrow's dawn patrol says I put you on your ass again," Edmund retorted, grinning.

The brothers squared off, saluting perfunctorily and pausing to assess each other - and in that moment a Faun huffed to a halt beside the practice ring.

"Your Majesties!"

Laughing and shoving each other, the kings, determined to have their competition, raced to the railing before reassuming a modicum of royal dignity.

"What from the palace, Phinas?" Peter asked, allowing the waiting pages to begin removing his armor.

"The queens are in the receiving room with a lady from the west, and they request the presence of the kings."

"Ohhhoo!" Edmund crowed, and jabbed Peter in the arm, then promptly regretted it, as the High King's armor was Dwarf-made of the highest caliber. "A lady!"

"Not another marriage proposal," Peter groaned. "It's not even courting season!"

"But they are so comely!" Edmund smirked. "So eager!"

"None can ever replace my family," Peter replied stoutly, and clapped his brother between the shoulders.

"All the same, family man," Edmund snorted, "certain nosy parties would like to see you in a different sort of family way."

"Err, Your Majesties?" The kings turned their attention back to the messenger hovering beside them.

"Yes, of course," Peter said, gently punching his brother once more and dodging out of the way of retaliation. "I suppose we'd better change and face the music, anyway. Don't want Susan and Lucy doing anything rash in my name."

"They can be rather good at running them off, though," Edmund mused.

"Yes, there was the one heiress from Galma I seem to fondly remember sailing away with mermaids still trying to play tag with her."

"Their Majesties seemed rather serious..." Phinas trailed off as the kings both clapped him on the back.

"They're always serious when it comes to protecting any of us from insipid suitors," Edmund grinned.

The queens, it transpired, were also serious when it came to pleas for help.

"I don't recognize that pony," Edmund commented as they strode through the Cair courtyard to the Palace steps.

The mare was small, white, dainty, and no Talking Horse. Yet, Peter felt the pony's eyes following them as they entered the Palace.

"No, she's definitely Western," Peter agreed. "Looks sturdy; we might think about looking into crossbreeding. Archenland would be interested in such small, hardy ponies, I think."

"And perhaps your bride-to-be will make a gift of one to you," Edmund said slyly. "You'd be quite fetching on a sidesaddle jaunt," he jibed, dodging another of Peter's affectionate, bruising sideswipes.

The Kings strode together into the receiving room, still laughing and ribbing each other, but sobered quickly when faced with the subtle glares of Susan the Gentle and Lucy the Valiant, seated before a lady who was clearly supplicant rather than suitor.

Peter bowed. "My lady, what brings you to our Court?" Edmund had to take a step sideways to execute his own bow without cracking into Peter's shoulder.

"Lady Elayne has ridden from the Western Wild with news and, she says, a challenge," Lucy said, gesturing for the lady herself to continue.

"Your Majesties, even in the wilds of the west we hear tales grow every day of the might of Peter the Magnificent and his golden court," the damosel began, voice light and musical. Maybe it was a proposal after all, Peter thought, determinedly not making eye contact with his brother.

"We are told of the High King's skill in battle, his brother the Just King's lawmaking, of the beauty and grace of Susan the Gentle, and the faith of Valiant Lucy. With such gifts of Aslan, surely your Majesties are accompanied by the most true and noble beings in the land."

"We have been blessed in our friends and advisors," Edmund replied courteously. The two kings stepped up onto the dais and took their thrones, and Peter gestured for a chair to be brought for Lady Elayne, who politely demurred. Stepping forward, she spread her hands, and Peter thought he saw a faint power begin to grow around her; not a threat, or their magical and physical guards would have alerted the monarchs already, but a presence, and one that made Peter - and everyone else in the room - redouble their attention on the lady.

"My lords and ladies," she said, "I have come to the High King's court at Cair Paravel to seek them most knightly, courteous, and good, for only the first of knights may deliver me from my enchantment and accept my quest."

"What is your enchantment, lady?" Peter asked, leaning forward. "If you are under some evil magic, we will do all we may to aid you."

"I am bound," Elayne said, "But magic is only the means, not the burden." The lady threw off her cloak, revealing a great sword, deadly and shining with the same aura of power Peter had seen on Elayne.

"Arms in the royal presence!" Oreius was between the monarchs and the sword in a moment, and the Guard surged forward to surround the strange lady, who, eyes wide, stepped back and raised her still-empty arms in pacification.

"Hold," Peter said, turning to his siblings. The throne room was well-constructed; pitching one's voice to carry throughout was simple, but the monarchs could speak quietly among themselves with little fear of eavesdropping but from some of their most keen-eared subjects, most of whom took it as a matter of honor not to listen.

"She isn't threatening anyone," Lucy pointed out, eyeing Elayne cautiously through the wall of spears.

"It's still a magical weapon," Edmund said uncomfortably, and Peter was glad when Lucy gently touched his shoulder, for he himself was too far from his brother to provide the support Edmund sometimes yet needed against his worst memories.

Peter shifted his attention back to the lady with the sword, and found her eyes locked on him over Oreius' shoulder. The magical sense was gone from her, and he was glad of it; interest in magic and the detection of it was a gift his sisters, and especially Lucy, had been given, but it discomfited Peter. He was much better placed, he thought, to judge people body to body, in combat or court, and in Elayne's direct gaze and unthreatening, if guarded stance, he saw no threat.

"I don't think the magic is hers at all," he said softly, and all his siblings nodded, even Edmund.

"She called it a burden," Susan offered. "And we did promise whatever help we could give."

"Then we must see what we can do," Edmund acquiesced, signalling the guards to stand down.

"Our apologies, Lady Elayne," Peter said, pitching his voice back to a public volume. "We can be overcareful, but we do hope our care is tempered with fair judgment." The lady nodded, approaching the thrones once more.

"The sword you wear is a great marvel to us," he continued. "Why do you call it a burden?"  
The lady smiled strangely, seeming half sorrowed and half excited.

"I have worn this blade for nearly a year now," she said, "and it grows too heavy to bear. I come in the hope that here dwells the one who might draw it, and release me."

* * *

This story is something new for me, but I got inspired to try my hand at the brother-fic, and I'm pretty excited about it. I have historically been awful at maintaining multichaptered WIPs, but I have what I think is a fun and pretty solid inspiration-outline for the story, so I hope it will follow through! Thanks to **rthstewart** and **Starbrow** for input on this chapter, as well as **songsmith** and **OldFashionedGirl95** for support!


End file.
